Nobody Knows (Chapter Three)

A group of people surround me. Angry. Very angry. I try to walk away, but a tall guy grabs me by my collar. "So," he says, "You're the bitch who's been walking round the place spreading bull shit 'bout me." He pulls me closer. He takes out a gun. I start to panic. A shiver runs down my spine. So this is how I'm gonna die. The other people start toward me. One holds my arms down while the other presses the gun to my head. "One..." He starts counting. Every second feels like a year. "Two..." I start to shake. The other guy squeezes my arms until It feels like the're gonna burst."THREE!" Something clicks. Everything is black. I sit up in my bed. Another nightmare. 1

**************************************************************************2

When I walk into school on Monday everyone stares at me. So it has begun. They heard. They all heard. News travels like a disease in this place, carried from one person to another. People point at me. When I open my locker, someone closes it. When I walk in the hallways, people trip me. When I'm all alone, my nightmare becomes real. I even smell the foul breath of the tall guy, and I swear I felt sore all on my arms. I roll my sleeve up. The purple gash is still there. Except now it's not purple. Now it's pink. Correction: The pink gash is still there. I walk into my classroom. Silence. I take a seat. Still silence. I could hear my heart beat. Thump thump. Somebody drops their pencil. Somebody coughs. Mrs. Reynaldo Clarisse walks in. I call her French Fries. "Bonjure Class!" She says as she takes a seat. Suddenly everything is normal. I could feel peoples eyes on me. They never move. Is this how it's gonna be the rest of the year? French Fries passes out peices of paper. A test. Oops. I didn't study. The first question asks: What does “avoir du travail par dessus la tęte” mean? I don’t know. If the teacher really wants to know, why doesn’t she go look it up?! I spend the entire period looking at my gash, plotting where I should put my next mark. The bell rings. I turn in a blank paper. “Nice work” I tell myself. I found the excellent place on my arm. Exactly where the guy in the nightmare held me. Maybe he won’t want to touch it.3

**************************************************************************4